


de novo

by e_aramis



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Grey-eyed Asami, Language of Flowers, M/M, Memory Loss, OOC, One Shot, Paganism, Post-War, Short One Shot, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_aramis/pseuds/e_aramis
Summary: A lone warrior with a weeping heart. The drip of morning dew from tips of ancient fig leaves. A broken vase of purple hyacinth. A search for redemption in a sullied world.
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Kudos: 34





	de novo

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Yuki Kajiura's heavenly songs: Sandpiper, 木苺の茂みに (Kiichigo no Shigemi ni), and 満天 (Manten). I do not own anything beside the plot. Any quotes taken from those songs lyrics are solely the property of the artist.
> 
> I wanted to explore the inner thoughts of certain characters when given a more magical/fantastic background. I wrote mainly from Asami's point of view, but I feature Fei Long and Takaba as well.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> P.S.: If you happen to find this story in another fandom (which I will not mention here), please note that I just want to explore certain characters' inner thoughts thus the same plot with different actors.

_Today is a bliss. The sun has never shone brighter and the breeze never fresher. Wild flowers scatter across our field, under my feet, from the west edges of the meadow to the far-east border just shy of the forest. Spring smells like heaven on earth, it’s sweet as the warm caress of a lover’s hand._

_Like yours on mine._

_You wake me up gentle, whispering my name soft as the wind that ruffle your hair. Oh, you, whatever you spit out of that mouth still sound like an angel’s lullaby, my dear. When I open these eyes I know what sight will welcome me. Your gorgeous visage comes into view and my heart aches in the face of such beauty. Have you ever known this pain, though? When you stand in the presence of something so divine, so good, that it hurts? Oh, I bet you haven’t. Because the only one in possession of this gift is you._

_The second you start to smile, the color of the world becomes warmer. I reflect the curve of your lips on mine. How ugly I must be, I wonder. It was a miracle you said yes when I asked for your hand. What in heavens' name did you ever see in me? Your joy is so blinding that I have to close my eyes for a second as I gather myself up._

_We’ve been here ever since dawn, when morning dew still dripped from the tip of fig leaves above us, when the raspberries hadn’t fully ripened under the light. Now the sun has risen, so do I. It is, sadly, the end of this moment I share with you. So short-lived yet fulfilling._

_“Maybe tomorrow we can meet again?” I ask you, desperately longing for another rendezvous._

_Without a moment of hesitation you answer, “Yes,” just like that time I asked your permission to our first kiss. My love instantly blooms for you. We shall part with an embrace. I look deep into your eyes, wanting to memorize each detail before we go our separate ways._

_Tomorrow, I tell myself. There’s still tomorrow._

_We’ll definitely meet again here, amidst the ripened berries and beneath the shade of a fig tree._

***

“One pint of dark beer, sir.”

A loud thump of transparent glass on wood snapped one man back to the present. He nodded his gratitude while having his mind wander far somewhere else. Low murmurs of the tavern’s patron slowly filled his ears like bees buzz in a hive. He took two big gulp of his drink. It tasted bitter on his tongue.

Asami spread his palm, wet from the moist glass. The drip of dew looked familiar between his fingers, although he couldn’t quite recall why.

“By the gods! Have you heard what happened to the people next town?”

His ear caught a particularly loud voice of another patron.

“It was that gang of thieves! They descended from the mountains to take the people’s crops. Oh, poor folk!”

Again, another tidings of human’s infinite self-serving nature. He thought he had heard enough of it, but no matter which place he chose to set his foot on, most people continue to disgust him. What of the kindness taught by the elders? By children to men? He was once again saddened, for he had woken up to a world he no longer recognized.

“What about us? Are they coming for us, too? We have nothing! Our harvest failed and only by the benevolence of the lake we can survive through this season.”

“By gods, let’s just pray they’ll oversee us and go to the other town!”

“We should bribe their leader instead. Lend them a hand and make a deal so we can be free. We might even get some gold!”

Asami would laugh at the irony if he hadn’t felt his heart sank. He drank his beer in big gulps and stood abruptly until his chair toppled over. Those patrons who’d been speaking amongst themselves all turned their heads toward the lone man at the corner, eyes curious and wary. The man dumped two coins at the table. He signaled the server that he was done before collecting his swords and bag. His leather boots thudded against the floorboard. The lone warrior kept his eyes fixed on the patrons’, remembering the ugly of their selves on even uglier bodies as he walked past, impatient to get away from these imbeciles.

Outside the tavern, the air was chilling. Rain had poured all day and now unpaved parts of the street turned to mud. Townsfolk went about their business as the market opened late. Children were running between Asami’s long legs as he made his way through Nimea. He had stayed here for night, resting and restocking his supply for the long journey still awaiting ahead.

“Fresh rye bread, here, only three Shill! We’ve cornbread and white bread! Come here and stock your bags!”

The town’s bakery had just finished baking. Trays and trays of buns and patisserie were laid on the display. Anyone who passed would be lulled by the fresh scent of bread mingling in the moist air. He decided to stop for purchase.

“Oi, lad! Some big swords you have there, aye?” The shopkeeper pointed at two claymores on his back. Asami just nodded while giving him a half smile, not wanting to start unnecessary conversation.

“Where ye came from? Mohendro? But ye don’t look like southerners.”

“You bum, can’t you see his eyes are grey? He must be from the north.”

“Ay, look at his clothes! No northerners dress that way!”

Their voices kept gyrating on the warrior’s ears. What sort of imagination ran through their heads, he didn’t know. Somehow their guesses kept getting wilder and wilder until they found the sense to ask him directly, to his dismay. Both of their heads whipped to him.

“So, where ye from?” Their black eyes scrutinized him. He blinked.

“Honestly,” Asami began, “I don’t remember.”

That silenced whoever listened. What he uttered had stopped time in this shop. Everyone paused and began giving him strange looks. _What a weird traveler_ , they must think. But Asami brushed them off. And that was the start of his horrible mood for the rest of his stay in town.

His mistake that time, was to not lie at the bakery. Apparently that shop where almost all townsfolk went was a hub. The next day he stepped out from his inn, people began to stare. They pointed fingers at his eyes, his tunic and boots, and the conspicuous swords on his back, clearly putting a bet which direction of the wind he came from. The warrior sighed.

That afternoon he mounted his stallion and eager to leave right away. The wilderness of the steppe was a much better companion than people of the town.

In the middle of the vast land, wind blew strong. He sought shelter behind dried bark of a dead tree until the sun set and moon rose. Tonight the stars rained light. The sky was clear as moon blessed him with its silver beams, a guide given by the gods. He let the night led him, having nowhere he needed to be, just wandering aimlessly. Where his stallion trotted was where he trod.

One quarter of the night later, Asami reached the hills at the northwest of the steppe. On his back was Nimea and his front the mountains of Belden. He looked to the sky, searching for nothing, simply marveling the divine grace. A star beamed brightest to the north. It chose to be scarce from the others, a beauty so unobtainable he wondered if it ever felt lonely.

Usually nothing but the soft caress of wind accompanied him at this quiet time. Yet tonight a newcomer appeared. The earth rumbled just a little bit. A cacophony of voices and horse gallops disturbed silence. Asami looked afore him. A group of riders arrived from the heights of Belden, their horses as dark as the night, their eyes feral and fixed onto one spot somewhere across the steppe.

The lone warrior clucked at his stallion, they both stilled, looking from a distance. The riders had torches in their hands and blades on the other. One of them led his horse to the side, standing face to face with Asami's silhouette. Then it came, their eyes locked for a moment. Each man examining the stranger on the hills. An indescribable feeling of familiarity grew in the pit of his guts, just like how a drip of dew would summon one, and Asami still couldn't quite recall why.

Merely a brief last look before the cloaked rider left the warrior alone. He rejoined the band as they sped into the vastness below the hills. Asami knew what fate would likely befell the town. Yet he continued on north where the heights of Belden awaited despite a small tug at his heart, pleading him to return.

***

_I remember once you begged the sun, "Please don’t go, summer light, if it were to freeze over before the season is engraved, he will have a look of unhappiness."_

_I cried just a little._

_Nothing shakes my heart the way your prayers do. If only the gods gave me the power to grasp the world within my palm, I shall give it to you at once. Nothing stops me from my worship of you. You shall stand on the highest pedestal. You can be my god. You could burn me in your hellfire and I would still think I’m in heaven. Take the leash and make me bow while I clean the soles of your feet from filth._

_How blessed would it be._

_How joy would constantly dance around us._

_I’ll fight for your happiness, dear._

_So, tell me why? Why are you sorrowful? Why the bouquet of apology? Purple hyacinths suit the hands of sinners better._

_They suit_ **me** _better._

_“Put it down,” I ask of you, not wanting to see those flowers in your virtuous embrace any second longer. You must let go! You are the furthest a man can be from sin. Between us, shouldn’t it be me who grace these apology unto you? Please, I beg of you, love, “Let go!”_

_That day your sadness bestows a great punishment upon me as it drops, shattering into a million pieces between us – I finally understand the meaning of regret._

_***_

Break of dawn painted the sky lilac. The sun still shy of rising but its light had rained warmth on earth. Last night’s cool air was slowly retreating when the moon disappeared behind the clouds. Asami had his eyes facing the heavens, preparing his heart for yet another farewell with the northern star. Daytime arrived. The lone warrior dismounted his stallion and led it between the trees to rest. Sitting down as he set fire, he fished out morsels and made breakfast for himself.

From this altitude atop Belden, one was granted unobstructed vista. At the edges of trees, near the rust-colored cliffs, there laid the widely distance of the south. On the far end, Asami saw black smoke billowing high into the sky. He felt his guts tightening. Nimea had burned overnight.

_And you did nothing?_

His head snapped around. Among the woods was no one else. That question must be his heart aching. Or so he thought. But through the morning until noon, when he tried to rest himself, he couldn’t. His mind kept coming back to the barbaric faces of those riders. He could imagine how the town would be littered with blood. Everyone had seen it coming. He heard it from the men at the tavern.

Asami was again reminded of his disinterest of meddling with the errands of people. They had it coming, he told himself, yet that small voice from his aching heart did cry if only a little bit harder. It meddled with his consciousness too greatly that he abandoned rest altogether. He hunted on hours from noon to dusk.

When night finally befell the land, the lone warrior continued his journey. Wary of the voice haunting him in the silence, he looked up, filling his mind with starlight. The northern star shone like torch in this endless path. Through the heights once again, among the trees, Asami set his stallion loose. He let it lead the way to wherever its four legs headed. Eventually, when dawn broke again the next day, Asami found himself descending on the other side of the mountains.

Dry dunes of Kaprushkan desert stretched across the horizon. Ancient gate that bordered city of Kaprushk stood majestic against the heat. Many travelers from every course of the wind approached. Eastern camel riders of desert Bedouin trotted alongside him in herds while their chained slaves trudged at the back. People from the west moved in groups carrying buckwheat and children in their wagons. Northerners brought fur, southerners brought silk.

An array of colors welcome oncoming travelers. Standing next to Birun River, Kaprushk flourished even parched beneath the sun. Thousands of people came and went every day. It was named the mecca of merchants, where cultures of different nature amalgamate in a city centered between the capitals of today’s civilizations.

Asami reached the gate high on his horse. The guards inspected him a tad second too long, but they still let the warrior made his way inside. His nostrils was instantly prickled by the scent of spices and incense. Southern merchants offered dried saffron to all comers. Smoked myrrh blown to the air by means of blessings. Fishermen from Birun peddled their harvest.

The lone warrior led his horse through the chaos. He trusted his stallion to the hostler of a nearby stable before heading for an inn. At the entrance, nearly blocking his path, a blind child offered silver pendants. “For your fortune and security, admirable sir,” she spoke, to which Asami politely refused.

But the little girl was persistent. “What about purple hyacinth to calm the weep of a guilty heart?”

He stopped, mind suddenly soaring onto where untouched memories hide.

_Purple hyacinths suit the hands of sinners better._

_They suit_ **me** _better._

He kneeled in front of the child. She still held the silver pendant, tastefully crafted into the shape and color of a flower. “Why would my heart weep?” Asami asked her.

“Because you have lost your way, admirable sir, have you not?”

He smiled. “I have lost everything, if that’s what you meant.”

The girl shook her head. “Not everything. No.”

Asami couldn’t comprehend why, but the words of a blind child he had never met managed to strike a chord so deep, something he didn’t even know existed. Or have probably forgotten.

“How much is this, little girl?” Asami settled for the flower pendant.

Her face brightened up a notch as she extended her arm toward him. “Just take it with you. I see your heart bleeds from unhealed grief."

"I can't just take it from you. That would be bad."

"Then the cost will be paid with amends made, admirable sir.”

So she gave it to him and left. Asami watched her sink into the depth of the city and disappear beneath the crowds. Her gift, small and delicate, was unbefitting to his rugged presence. Instead of circling the chains around his neck, the man chose to put it in the pocket nearest his heart.

The rest of the day he spent like any other. Rest while the sun hung high, wake when the sun went low. Once his strength returned fully, Asami set out to explore Kaprushk's winding alleys. The city was littered with exotic wonders from four ends of the world. People of various colors and shapes roamed alongside him. Familiars mingled with their masters. Then there were people like Asami, whose visit in town didn't have any definite purpose, simply random meanderers who happened to come across this city. Guards patrolled every once and again. They met the lone warrior in multiple occasions. For some reason he was saved from any prods, regarding the man himself nor the stark difference his weapons made him from others.

In his aimless wander, Asami happened by a bedouin’s shop. Inside were rolls of woven tapestries. Among the arabesques and damasks, one stood peculiar. On its surface were patterns created from woolen embroidery. The first of imageries depicted four ends of today’s world civilization. It went through embellishments of runic alphabet before the gruesome fight between north and south. Two soldiers clashed weapons. Northern halberd against southern dao. “Blood war painted the sky red,” was written by runes. “Gods punished men whose hearts saturated by vengeance and scattered them over earth’s soil.”

The lone warrior stood long, eyes locked on the last passages. The flash of morning dew and purple hyacinths blinded him. But before the bedouin who owned the shop could come, he already left.

Asami hurried to the stable. He paid the hostler a gratuitous amount without asking for change. The man rode his stallion like a man possessed. He had to get away, though from what exactly, he didn’t know. Why and how did he become so nescient, he knew not also. His thoughts started to run wild.

_When did I forget so much?_

_What have I done?_

_Where did I come from?_

Cloistered by his muse, Asami almost didn’t realize the start of an upheaval around him. Kaprushk’s guards raised their weapons while merchants and patrons alike scrambled to safety. The sound of horns blew from a distance. Men’s battle cry resonated within the city walls.

And again, the earth rumbled just a little bit.

He slowed his stallion to a stop, turning to look back. Disorganized chaos broke around the city. He recognized the band of riders from their chanced meeting at the hills before Belden. Their black cloaks fluttered beneath Kaprushk’s dry wind. In their hands were blades and torches. They stampeded across people and soil alike, taking what was not rightfully theirs, burning everything in their trace. Women and children cried as those unable to find safety pushed the weak upon the enemy. Asami felt his guts churned. Times like this were when people tend to show their corrupt nature most.

The lone warrior turned a blind eye out of disgust. He let his stallion trot amidst scrambling men and women, wanting nothing to do with these worldly errands of people. What happens, happens. He was prepared to leave and brush off another lingering tug at his heart, even if it cried louder. But then he recognized the petite form of a child amidst this chaos. The pendant girl stood flustered in the middle of the road while others carelessly ran around her. One man knocked her off in his haste, scattering the pendants in her hands all over the ground.

Without further ado, Asami directed his horse to the girl. He grabbed her by the cloak and lifted her on to the stallion’s back. She flailed for a second before somehow recognizing him.

“Admirable sir!”

They parted the crowd toward Kaprushk’s north gate. Asami sped his horse nearing the exit, but the little girl called out to him. “Don’t run away, sir! These people are helpless without you!”

Clicking his tongue, Asami made his irritation clear. “I won’t meddle. Let them burn.”

“But shouldn’t you make your amends before it is too late?”

This blind girl. Asami could almost regret taking her away. Maybe he should just leave her too.

“Are you going to let your heart weep for far longer? Are you going to let his sorrow be, admirable sir?”

He felt the ache in his heart doubled. The lone warrior clenched a fist atop his chest, touching the pendant in his pocket. His eyes widened. Another flash of strange yet familiar memories attacked him. As if a dam was broken, his mind was flooded with imageries of past moments in life. A blissful morning in the meadows, the dew at the tips of fig leaves. Anguished face, purple hyacinths, the meaning of regret. And one more thing, he found.

Something about blood and sky painted crimson.

Asami caught his breath. The ache in his chest slowly diminished. His head had never felt clearer. The world came crashing back to him. What he let burn has burned, but he no longer headed for an exit. He penetrated the crowds once again on his way to a figure at the end of the road. Their eyes locked in a deadly match.

“Hold fast, I’ll come down,” The man said to the girl. He masterfully dismounted, walking to a man whom he’d met nights before. His cloaked figure stood strong in Kaprushk’s strong wind, facing Asami with a halberd axe in hand. The lone warrior withdrew the swords on his back, grey eyes sharp like eagle on a hunt.

Another exchange of glance, and the cloaked man pulled down his hood.

“Liu Fei Long,” Asami mentioned.

“General,” His opponent nodded. “It’s been a long time.”

“Why have you resorted to these barbaric actions, Commander Liu?”

Fei Long lowered his halberd and spat to the ground. “I don’t want to hear it coming from a sinful man.”

The once-general gripped his claymores just a little tighter, “You and I are sinners alike.”

“Don’t lump me in with your kind. Not once!” Fei Long snarled, “Not once have I ever refused what the gods bestow upon me, general! I live with my pain.”

“You should seek redemption instead.”

At that, Fei Long’s snarl turned fiercer. His halberd whipped to point at Asami’s heart. “That’s why I’m here.”

He moved with feline agility, slashing halberd against the opponent. Asami crossed his claymores. Metals collided, igniting sparks of fire. Their bodies danced in tandem with every thrust and dodge. Akin to flames left by the marauding band of thieves, both warrior obliterated every object that stood afore them. Steel were cut in half by Asami’s swerving swords as solid ground shattered under Fei Long’s hurled blade.

Onlookers gathered around them. The halberd wielder’s men circled their arena, cheering for blood to spill. Their jitters, along with agonizing wails of people consumed by fire, urged brutality to come forward. They no longer cared to hold back. Each strike was meant to kill. As smoke billowed up to the sky, their aggressive battle progressed.

One cut was delivered on one man’s arm. Asami almost dropped his sword from pain, but the look on Fei Long’s desolate eyes spurred him forward, slashing the man’s thigh with his blade’s edge. Red then colored the earth while savagely roar of the thieves shook heavens.

Fei Long sent his opponent flying with one kick. Coals tumbled down after Asami landed upon a peddler’s hut. He barely managed to avoid the punch of the halberd’s fluke. It would have crushed his skull had he moved a second late. Rain of blows was ruthlessly downed until the twin sword wielder became overwhelmed.

Asami’s blood dripped from open wounds. Pain continuously amplified and his muscles ached from exertion. His opponent’s smaller stature allowed him to duck and attack his lower opening easily, then between another deluge of a halberd’s slash, one strike pierced his chest, right above the pendant in his pocket. He could see flashes of white behind his eyes. The shock of his injury almost unbearable that he finally dropped on one knee.

His breath came up short. Blood was soon soaking the front of his tunic. He lifted his head to meet the ex-commander’s somber face. Contradictory to his expectation, he didn’t wield any look of satisfaction. The only crude joy Asami could hear was coming from the band’s mirth outside their arena.

The warrior heaved his chest and ignored the pain. While praying to the gods for one last strength, he charged, summoning a power he never knew to possess. Fei Long moved on his agile feet, dodging every advance of Asami’s blades. They resumed their dance, only now the odds had turned slightly in Asami’s favor.

He didn’t feel the pain, attacking rigorously left and right. Within one decisive moment, Asami took advantage of an opening to Fei Long’s guts, and he thrusted.

The blade of his sword penetrated his body like knife through warm butter.

For a second, their gazes met. Asami swore he could see a hint of relief somewhere at the back of those eyes before blood sputtered from the other’s mouth, wetting skin.

The cheers around them died down. Asami gently lowered the other onto solid ground. He put one hand on Fei Long’s chest and pulled the blade of his sword out.

Laid on the dirt with blood streaming down from his belly, Fei Long let out a haunting chuckle. His unfocused eyes searched for Asami’s silhouette. “General,” he called.

The called limped to Fei Long’s side. He crouched beside him and dropped one sword. “Commander Liu.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as light began to diminish from his eyes. “You have delivered my redemption.” A painful bout of cough cut the man’s words. He grasped the blood-soaked front of Asami’s tunic and said, “Now you shall seek yours. He must be waiting.”

Clouds blown by desert wind moved below the sun, providing them with just a little bit of shade. Fei Long gave a nod to Asami, saluting him in the last moments of life. He was gone just after the other bade farewell to his former comrade.

Silence around him slowly brew into another chaos. The band of thieves tried to seek vengeance against their leader’s death, but Asami was not yet finished. He rose from his spot after closing the lids of Fei Long’s lifeless eyes. He began by beheading the nearest thief who came to charge him with his axe. The move sparked confidence in the city guards. They fought back bravely against the marauders.

Asami danced in a trance. His hands moved as if autonomous. He didn’t know after what hundred decapitated heads and dozens of amputated limbs he finally found himself standing in a pool of blood. He had practically massacred a whole crowd of men and he felt nothing. No guilt, fear, nor satisfaction. What had been left, was just a nagging feeling, a strong tug at his heart.

_Come home._

It called out to him.

And he bolted away to where his stallion was, loyal in waiting with the little girl still tucked safely on its back. Asami mounted his ride with a one track mind. They rode into the wilderness of the sands up north where the bliss of life lied under an ancient fig tree. For days and nights his stallion galloped without rest, racing with the wind until cold air of earth’s northern end froze their breath.

At the borders of Meridian forest, just shy of the conifers, Asami jumped down to the meadow of aster and lilies. The wound on his chest had taken its toll on him, yet he ignored it in favor of his final destination – a lone fig tree towering in the distance. There he felt the ache in his chest grew. Red had covered him when he reached the fig’s roots, painting raspberry bushes with crimson. The man tumbled to the ground. He let his back to rest against the bark of the fig tree and inhaled the familiar air of the land. The only thing to do left is wait.

He could feel green moss soft between his fingers. The beginning of dusk accompanied his stay. Night would come, and with it the light of a northern star, whose twinkles of unsaid prayers appeased the gods.

Sending a joyous smile toward the heavens, he finally closed his eyes.

***

_To the brightest star of my life._

_You taught me about integrity and trust. You dragged me out of the deep hole I’d been stuck within. Never in my primal desires I expected your presence, but just like the break of dawn, you’re inevitable — you engulf me in your radiance and warmth. You are the embodiment of a dragon’s fire, you are a scorching metal blade fresh out of a blacksmith’s furnace, a white-hot steel that never lost its blaze._

_You are summer solstice. I found marigold and achilleas blooming under your intense heat, swaying in blithe beneath the golden sun. It is you who waltzed to nature’s symphony. With the wind as your chauffeur and the earth as your soles, you wander to and fro my heart as a silent visitor whose splendor never faded._

_You, my dear, are the peaceful host of my sojourn._

_Yet you contradict everything that speaks of me. I am an instrument of war, who must constantly be prepared for another period of battle. Our views on peace differ too far. “Si vis pacem, para bellum” is how I see it. That’s why from this moment on, I commend our love. Shall the next solstice of summer appear before you, I have yet to return. I’ll patiently wait for our meeting in the next realm._

_To start again…_

_…de novo._

_***_

The radiant warmth of another embraced him as he woke. Morning was there. The sun shone yellow onto the vastness of the meadow. Cool breeze swept the flowers with gentle caress. His eyes opened to the bliss of early spring, the colors of wild flowers, and an angelic face dearest to his bleeding heart.

He felt tender hand on the pendant of purple hyacinth. The pain of his wounds long gone.

“Welcome back.”

Asami looked at the man’s face thoroughly, wanting to miss no details. He lifted his hand to caress the cheek of his beloved, “Akihito, I am sorry.”

The most beautiful smile bloomed on the other’s face. “You are forgiven.”

That day, after years of wandering to four ends of the earth, without a drop of knowledge about what had and would come to pass, Asami finally lied in the hands of his lover. They rested peacefully in a place where spring eternally followed.

On the other side of the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> LATIN GLOSSARY
> 
> Si vis pacem, para bellum: if you want peace, prepare for war
> 
> De novo: anew


End file.
